Crossroads in life are shitty. Getting older is the quintessential drag of the human condition; ultimately leading to the final box in which we all will decompose. That said, I’m in a surprisingly chipper mood today all things considered…
Getting my shit together is giving me all the challenge that I can handle. Having a bank account that’s consistently in the negative and trying to start a new job leave me little time to socialize with my peers. And that’s a very good thing. Fuck ’em. My peers are a group of tired degenerates that do nothing other than drag each other to deeper, before now unheard of levels of hell. Becoming a person of worth after so much wrong is a test, one that I have consistently failed in the past. I am realistically unsure of whether or not I will be able to overcome this time, but confidence is delusionally high for one in my circumstance.
In the past week I’ve been fucked over while trying to help out a friend; I then immediately turned around and fucked over a different friend in a completely different and much, much worse manner. C’est la vie, the cycle continues. A new chapter opening with the new job offers new opportunity to right my financial wrongs and make a new, positive network of friends to bide my time with.
But who gives a shit about me really? The dismal stats of readership of this blog are a testament to the relevance of that question. And it’s decidedly rhetorical in nature, the questions-not the stats. But what has happened in this moment of clarity brought on by the lack of funding for my usual endeavors is a bit of an epiphany. It reminds me of the matrix really, the movie. Somewhere in the trilogy, I think the first movie, somebody says that the “growing percentage of people opting out of the matrix” indicates the inevitable destruction of the “free” people of zion. I think that the rising percentage of people in my generation considered “addicts” or “drug dependent” constitutes a substantial number of people “opting out” of the machine; the escapism offered by a serious drug problem and those who choose to self-medicate in this way shows a good deal of americans, as well as countless other nations, who look at their options of a long life marked with a family, career, retirement, old age, then (and not soon enough) finally death, and simply saying “no thanks.” Obviously, it’s not just americans. Not just my generation either. I’ve seen dependence at all ages, from teenager to elderly.
I think that it also represents a semi-conscious yearning for a struggle in life that is lacking to most humans today. The past decade has offered a defining war, but it is not one that is as rewarding as WWII-thanks to the instantaneous modern media. Veteran funerals are protested. Returning soldiers are not always welcomed home as they should be for the sacrifices and services they provide the rest of us. No, the days of “c’mon boys jump on board, lets go fight nazis!” are long over. There’s no spiritual element of this ongoing conflict that fulfills those enlisted like wars past. But I digress. I look around and feel that the citizens around me are becoming very disenchanted with their prospects of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
When you turn to what may very well be, at the time anyway, a legitimate medicine prescribed by a legitimate doctor to ease this anxious feeling inside, you let all that go and decide to just “feel good” for the next few hours and not think about the dismal hopelessness of it all. And you like it. Who wouldn’t enjoy that? Immediately turning all worrisome and bad feelings into good ones? Then you do it again the next day. And the next. Modern age-old story. But on some level of cognition everyone knows what the result is: addiction. And we all know what addiction leads to: withdrawal to get clean again. The mystique of the drug culture and the question of whether or not “I can take” the extremely negative effects of cleaning up draw so many in; so many of us are not only looking for the escape that drugs offer but also the challenge they bring: can you put it down and move on with your life?
In the words of the great Tyler Durden, “We have no great depression, yadda yadda, ours is a spiritual war. Our great depression is our lives.” Cheers, mate! So many of us have become jaded and lost sight of the riches an upright life can bring us, the opportunities it opens to us. We feel we need that bone-deep personal, spiritual, physical obstacle to overcome; everyone wants to be able to say “yeah, I did that” or “yeah, I beat it. Myself. Me.”
This is where one of my least favorite elements comes into play: junkie pride. If you’ve ever known someone that has successfully quit doing an addictive substance, you know what I’m talking about. Some of our reformed brethren never stop talking about the “glory days” of their addiction with a certain fondness and pride. These people perplex me, I have no idea how they stay clean with it clearly on the front of their mind everyday, but whatever works for you is the best solution. Any rational person will say to one of these people (or at the very least think it), “Well, if you didn’t fuck up your life in the first place you wouldn’t of had to go through that ‘great harrowing’ trial of character, but ok man…” And they’re completely right for feeling this way. I feel this way. But if we didn’t need it somehow, we wouldn’t have done it to ourselves. Hopefully it’ll make you a better person for overcoming; more likely it will lead you to a life of sadness and maybe an early grave. Lifestyle hazard I suppose.
So ultimately, I don’t think it’s just the high you get from drugs; the challenge is seated somewhere in every user’s mind. No one is ignorant of what happens to users if they’re not careful, that excuse is dead and buried. So, kiddies…here is the carnivale of flashing lights and ultimate pleasure. Cost of entry: your soul and salvation. Enter if you dare (you malcontent asshole, you).
Just a thought.